The Fault In His Stars
by storming-wolf
Summary: If John had known what little time he would have left, he would've told Sherlock a long time ago how he felt. Why did it take his best friend's impending death to make him see what was in front of him this whole time? Johnlock, Teenlock
1. Something's Wrong

_If you follow me on Tumblr you might have seen that this all started as a dream. What sparked this dream was my completion of the book by John Green with the similar title for the tenth time and my decision to pursue a career in treating cancer patients. I am not sure if I got 100% of the information right in this story, so I apologize for it being wrong if it is._

* * *

It all started with a fever.

John awoke to the sound of his room mate running in and out of the loo in the early hours of the first day of spring holiday. John picked up some activities on campus that week and Sherlock didn't want to go spend the week with his brother. If anything, John expected Sherlock to be up early playing violin or doing some experiment, but when the taller boy stumbled back into the dorm, John could tell what was wrong.

"John, I'm dying," Sherlock whined in a weak voice. John got up and helped him into bed, placing the back of his hand against Sherlock's forehead.

"You're burning up. How long have you been feeling sick?" John asked.

"All night," Sherlock said, curling into a ball underneath the comforter. "I'm freezing. Can I use your blanket?"

"Yeah, here," John said as he grabbed his and pulled it over Sherlock. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Tuesday," Sherlock gave John a weak smile before starting a coughing fit.

"For God's sake, it's Saturday!" John scolded. "What symptoms are you experiencing?"

"I have a headache, I'm really cold, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, I've thrown up twice, and," he broke into another coughing fit. "That."

"Looks like the flu. I can take you to the-" John started.

"No, they'll send me home with Mycroft! Can you take care of me?" Sherlock asked. John had a lot of stuff to do, but he could tell Sherlock was really sick.

"Okay. But first, you need to eat. Even if it's a few crackers, you'll only get sicker without it," John said.

John spent all week taking care of Sherlock. From rubbing his back when he got sick to gathering all the blankets in the dorm to keep him warm, John nursed Sherlock back to health by time school started again.

But it happened again the next month. And the month after that.

Sherlock walked into physics bundled in a jumper. His face was pale, his hair was messy, and his nose was bright red. He sat next to John, loudly sneezing and then going into a coughing fit.

"You're not sick again, are you?" John asked.

"I'm fine. Just a cold," Sherlock assured John. John carefully looked over him and noticed something red come from Sherlock's nose.

"Your nose is bleeding," John said. Sherlock put a hand up to his nose, staring at the blood on his fingers and quickly covering his nose with his hand as he ran out of the class.

"Mr. Holmes!" the professor called after him.

"I gotta check on him," John said, running out after him. He found Sherlock in the first bathroom in the science wing, in a stall crying. "Sher, what's wrong?"

"Something's wrong," Sherlock sobbed.

"What do you mean?" John asked. A phone slid out from the stall and hit John's foot. John picked it up to see a memo with different symptoms on it. At the bottom of the memo in all caps was cancer.

"I told you I'm dying," Sherlock sobbed. John crawled under the door and sat across from Sherlock. "I think I have cancer."

"What makes you think that?" John asked. Sherlock stood and took off his jumper and shirt. John saw bruises and how skeletal he looked.

"I've been eating everyday, so why am I so thin? I run into something and I bruise like I was in a fight. I keep getting sick, I'm constantly exhausted, my lymph nodes are swollen. You're the one who wants to be a doctor; you tell me what's wrong!" Sherlock cried. John stood up and hugged Sherlock as he sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," John whispered, starting to cry himself.

"It's not," Sherlock whimpered. John wiped Sherlock's tears.

"I'll take you to a doctor, we need to find out now so you can get the treatment you need," John said. Sherlock shook his head.

"I'm scared," Sherlock mumbled into John's chest. Never in a million years did John expect Sherlock Holmes to utter those words.

"I'll be there with you, I promise," John said, pulling Sherlock out of the stall. They snuck off of campus and began to walk to the tube. It was fairly warm that day, but John could see Sherlock shivering even though he had a jumper on. He knew something serious was wrong.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock asked as they got on the train.

"My mum is in today. She can check you over and perform necessary tests," John explained. Sherlock nodded and found two empty seats. They sat and Sherlock felt himself grow tired as the train began to move. His head fell on John's shoulder.

"D'you mind?" Sherlock asked.

"You're fine," John said. Not even a moment later, Sherlock was fast asleep.

* * *

"Step on the scale," Dr. Watson instructed Sherlock. He stepped on the scale, Dr. Watson measuring his height as well.

"6 feet even and 9 stone 4 pounds. You're extremely under weight, Sherlock," Dr. Watson pointed out. "If anything, we need to get that weight up. Can you tell me the symptoms you've been experiencing?"

"I keep getting sick, I always feel tired, even if I sleep for 12 hours, I keep finding bruises that I can't explain, and I think my lymph nodes are swollen," Sherlock explained. Dr. Watson put two fingers to Sherlock's neck and moved them around a bit.

"Can you take off your shirt?" Dr. Watson asked. Sherlock pulled it off. "Lift your arms." Sherlock did as he was told, Dr. Watson feeling around under his arms.

"Have you experienced any joint pains, headaches, or loss of appetite?" Dr. Watson asked.

"I've had at least one headache a week for the past 2 months and I've never had an appetite, ever. I just eat when your son tells me I'm supposed to," Sherlock said.

"I want to do some blood samples as well as bone marrow samples. I will need a parent's consent though," Dr. Watson said.

"I'll be 18 next year," Sherlock said.

"But the test is for now, not next year," Dr. Watson pointed out. "Can you ring your mum or dad?"

"I wish I could, but they died in an accident last year," Sherlock said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Who is your guardian, I need to call them before I can perform any test," Dr. Watson asked.

"Mycroft Holmes," Sherlock pulled out his mobile and called Mycroft and handed the phone to Dr. Watson. She left the room, John rushing in.

"What did she say?" John asked.

"She wants to run some test on me," Sherlock said. He grabbed John's hand, the blonde's face going red. "Can you stay with me?"

"As long as my mum says it's okay, then yes," John said. Dr. Watson came back in.

"Your brother is on his way, but he consented the tests required," Dr. Watson said. "John, honey, you have to leave."

"Mummy, please," John whined.

"Dr. Watson, I can't do this without him here. Please let him stay," Sherlock pleaded.

"Alright, alright. Sherlock, put this gown on and I'll take you for your tests," Dr. Watson handed Sherlock a gown and left the room. Sherlock stood and started taking off his trousers. John looked away when he removed his pants.

"John, can you tie this?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah," John said, awkwardly tying his gown, trying to avoid looking at his bum. "All done."

Sherlock took a seat on the exam table and heard a knock at the door. Dr. Watson re-entered.

"Alright, Sandy here is going to get some blood and then we're off for your biopsy," Dr. Watson said. Sandy, an elderly short lady, walked over to Sherlock, pushing a cart with all types of test tubes and needles.

"Hold out your arm, love," Sandy said. Sherlock held out his left arm to her. She tied a band around his upper arm tightly and popped his inner elbow a few times. Sherlock bit his lip slightly as she cleaned the area and inserted the small needle. Sandy filled several tubes up with his blood and then placed gauze over the needle before pulling it out. She released the band on his arm and made sure the bleeding was clotting. She frowned when it continued to pool out of the small puncture. Sherlock glanced between John and his mother, who went to grab some more gauze. She placed it on his arm and taped it down.

"I'll check that again when we get to the other room," Dr. Watson said. Sherlock nodded and got up from the table. John stood from his chair and followed everyone out of the room. They were lead to a room with several nurses waiting around a single exam table. Dr. Watson checked his arm, which thankfully stopped bleeding.

"Dr. Xavier here will do your biopsy," Dr. Watson said.

"Hello, Sherlock. We're gonna have you lie on your stomach on this table," Dr. Xavier said. Sherlock did as he was told, John sitting in the chair in front of the table.

"Will it hurt?" Sherlock asked.

"A little. Good thing you have a friend to distract you," Dr. Xavier said. They undid his gown and put sterile papers over his lower back. "Who is this?"

"John. We've been best friends for 2 years, and he's my roommate at school," Sherlock said. He felt them clean his back.

"What school do you go to and what year are you?" Dr. Xavier asked as he prepped the needles.

"Webster Academy. We're both year eleVENS!" Sherlock winced as he felt the needle pierce his back. "Am I done?"

"Not quite yet, I just freezed the skin. Next I have to freeze the bone, but try not to think about the procedure," Dr. Xavier said. John squeezed his hand.

"Squeeze it whenever you need to," John said. Sherlock nodded. "Tell me about your experiment?"

"I don't have one right now, but I have a theory about the way bruises form post mortem. It could clear the name of several murder suspects if proven true," Sherlock said. He felt a second needle go deeper into his back. He squeezed John's hand and whimpered at the pain.

"So after this, we could go to that nice café since we're in town," John said.

"That sounds nice," Sherlock said. He breathed a sigh of relief when the needle was removed. "Now?"

"Not yet. I'm making a slight incision, so stay still," Dr. Xavier said. The incision was actually the easiest part to Sherlock so far. Then came the aspiration. Sherlock winced as he felt the pressure, giving John's hand a firm squeeze. He bit on his lip. "Owwww." Sherlock whimpered slightly.

"Deep breath in," Dr. Xavier instructed.

"OWWWW!" Sherlock cried. It went on for three aspirates, and Sherlock had tears.

"All done Sherlock. The aspirate is the worst part," Dr. Xavier said. "Now we're going to do the biopsy."

"I'm still not done?" Sherlock exclaimed. Dr. Xavier removed the needle and began to inserted a new one. Sherlock held on to John's hand tightly.

"How about that exam we have?" John asked. "Have you studied yet?"

"Of course not, that's boring. I remember it all anyway," Sherlock said. He whimpered again as the needle went through the cortex.

"You're doing great Sherlock. I'm taking the needle out, you're almost done," Dr. Xavier said. He took out the needle. "That's a good sample. You're all done. I'm going to have you lie on your back for a few minutes."

Sherlock turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, which had dolphins painted on it. John gave his hand a squeeze and Sherlock turned his head to him.

"Feel alright?" John asked.

"My back hurts and I'm tired," Sherlock said. "Thank you for staying here with me."

"No problem," John said. "No matter what's wrong, I'll stay with you the whole time." John promised. Sherlock smiled at him and pulled him into a kiss. John's eyes grew wide, but he kissed back in the last seconds of the kiss before someone knocked on the door.

"Sherlock, why didn't you tell me you were ill?" Mycroft asked as he stormed into the room. John noticed that Sherlock was pretending to sleep.

"He's asleep, leave him," John said. Dr. Xavier came in.

"You must be Mr. Holmes. I have some papers for you to fill out," Dr. Xavier said. John watched them leave and turned his attention to Sherlock.

"He's gone, Sher," John said. Sherlock didn't respond, so John assumed Sherlock was fast asleep. "I have a feeling we're not gonna talk about what just happened, but let me say this. I like you, and I have for a long time now. It's killing me inside that it took you getting sick to realise it's more than a crush. Hell, I didn't even know I liked boys until I met you. Well, that's it. I John Watson, like you Sherlock Holmes."

John gave Sherlock a sad smile, knowing he would never say that when he was awake.

But he didn't know he had done just that.

* * *

_I'd love your feedback on how I'm doing and what I can improve on. Off to proofread chapter 3!_


	2. Got The News Today

After a lot of arguing with Mycroft, Sherlock found himself walking into dorm 221B a few hours after leaving the doctor's office. Mycroft wanted Sherlock to stay home until the diagnosis came in. John had left earlier, and Sherlock smiled when he saw the blonde lying in bed with a book in his hands. He crossed the dorm and lied next to John, startling him since he didn't see or hear him come in.

"Sherlock what are you do-" John started. Sherlock bought John's lips to his again. John didn't protest, but instead dropped his book and tangled his hands in Sherlock's hair.

"I heard what you said," Sherlock said between a kiss. "I thought you should know that I feel the same way."

"How come you never said anything then?" John asked as he turned on his side to make room on the small bed and to face Sherlock.

"The same reason you didn't. I didn't know how you felt. It's awkward because we live together, if you didn't feel the same way, things would've been awkward," Sherlock said.

"Does this make you my boyfriend?" John asked.

"As long as you don't mind having a boyfriend who might have cancer or something just as bad," Sherlock said. John kissed Sherlock softly.

"Not one bit," John said. He placed his hand on the small of Sherlock's back to kiss him, but Sherlock winced. "I am so sorry."

"It's okay, honest mistake," Sherlock said. "Do you mind if we share a bed?"

"That's fine," John said. He lifted the covers and snuggled beneath, Sherlock resting his head on John's chest. "When do you get your results?"

"The blood tests might come back late tomorrow, the biopsy will take time though," Sherlock said. John kissed his forehead.

"Let's hope they come back normal and we've just overreacted," John said. He held Sherlock close to his chest.

"Thank you for everything John," Sherlock mumbled as he began to dose off.

"That's what boyfriend's are for," John said. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, hoping Sherlock would be okay.

* * *

Sherlock decided not to go to classes the next day, the pain in his hip bone too severe for him to want to do everything. John went to classes after much persuasion by Sherlock. It was lunch break when John came in with a sandwich for himself and Sherlock. He found Sherlock sitting at his desk on his laptop.

"Did you know that if I require high doses of chemo I have to stay in the hospital for possibly months?" Sherlock asked. John closed the laptop.

"How long have you been doing that?" John asked.

"Since you left," Sherlock said. John pulled Sherlock up and dragged him to bed. He opened his knapsack and handed Sherlock a jug of milk and a sandwich. Sherlock stared at the milk.

"If I didn't drink this so much, the test wouldn't have hurt as bad," Sherlock said.

"Stop googling stuff, you're making this worse on yourself," John said, taking a bite of his sandwich. Sherlock rested against John, taking a bite of his sandwich and grimacing. "Still not for eating?"

"Not at all," Sherlock said. "I want to come to class."

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" John asked.

"It's only French and Trig," Sherlock said. He ditched the sandwich halfway through and took a few sips of milk.

"Ah, après la classe, aimeriez-vous aller pour le the?" John asked.

"Oui, ou a?" Sherlock asked.

"Le café de Mme Hudson," John said. "At least you've studied your French."

"Effronte," Sherlock smirked as he went to get dressed for classes. 

* * *

"Monsieur Holmes, Monsieur Watson, you are needed in the office. Take your belongings," Madame Louise said. Sherlock and John picked up their knapsacks and made their way to the office. Mycroft was there waiting.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"I've received a call saying to go to the Children's hospital with you," Mycroft said. "I thought maybe you would like John here as well."

"What did they say?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft said nothing, but lead the two of them to a car outside. John held Sherlock's hand the whole time.

The ride to the hospital felt long and short all at once. Sherlock was so afraid to even get out of the car. Mycroft went to the reception desk, a nurse leading them to a consultation room.

"The doctor will be right with you," she said before leaving. John moved his chair closer to Sherlock and gave him a quick kiss when Mycroft wasn't looking. Sherlock took deep breathes as there were three knocks before the doctor entered.

"Let's get right down to business," Dr. Xavier said. "We got your blood test back and there are several factors we look at when it comes to detecting cancer of the blood, and we found them in your tests. High white blood cell counts, lymphoblast, low plasma, they were all present. Your bone marrow biopsy will confirm this, but it appears to be acute lymphoblastic leukaemia."

"Am I gonna die?" Sherlock asked.

"Hopefully we caught this early, but we need to get you admitted to the hospital as soon as possible and start chemotherapy and start performing test to be sure it hasn't spread," Dr. Xavier said.

"You never answered me straight forward. Am. I. Going. To. Die?" Sherlock repeated.

"I cant give you a conclusive answer," Dr. Xavier said. "I've pushed the lab to give us the results of the biopsy as soon as possible, but I'll give you tonight to get some things for the hospital."

"How long will I stay?" Sherlock asked.

"6 weeks, maybe longer," Dr. Xavier said. Sherlock turned to Mycroft.

"Okay. I'd like to spend my last night of freedom having fun, if you all don't mind," Sherlock said. Mycroft nodded, Sherlock getting up and pulling John out of the room with him.

"Sherlock…Sher! Slow down!" John said. Sherlock pushed John against the wall and began to snog him. John gently pushed him off. "Sherlock! We are in a children's hospital!" Sherlock backed away from him until he hit the wall opposite of John. He slid down and started crying. John bent down infront of him and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm gonna die," Sherlock sobbed.

"With that attitude, you are!" John exclaimed. "Chemo can only do so much! You have to fight this, you have to be strong! You have to believe that you will be fine."

"I can't be strong, I'm too scared," Sherlock said.

"And I'll be here to fight it with you," John said. Sherlock held John and John held Sherlock, both boys crying now. 

* * *

Sherlock packed his hospital bag slowly, John helping him differentiate what was and was not acceptable at the hospital. Sherlock wasn't too thrilled when that meant no experiments for at least 6 weeks. He packed a few books, movies, and his laptop. John gave Sherlock his Union Jack pillow.

"A little piece of 221B at the hospital," John said.

"Maybe I can request room 221," Sherlock chuckled. John handed him his favourite jumper.

"I don't know if they'll let you wear it in the hospital, but so I'm there even when I'm not," John said. Sherlock gave him a hug.

"You'll visit every day?" Sherlock asked.

"They'll have to drag me out," John said.

"I'm all packed now. I believe you promised me a date," Sherlock said. John held a hand out and smiled at the taller boy when he grabbed it. They walked to a café not to far from the school owned by a nice elderly lady, Mrs. Hudson. She had been a friend of Sherlock's parents and absolutely adored him and always thought John and Sherlock were together. She'd be happy to know they were.

"Sherlock! John! Here, have a seat. I'll get you two a cuppa and some biscuits, on the house," Mrs. Hudson said after hugging the two boys.

"Can you get us a candle for the table too? We're on a date," John said with a smile.

"I knew there was something with you two!" Mrs. Hudson said. She went back into the kitchen.

"So. 6 weeks, eh?" John asked. "You'll miss school well into the summer holiday."

"I have a tutor who will come starting next week," Sherlock said. "And of course I'll miss the trip to Paris. You're still going, yeah?"

"Of course not. Not while my boyfriend is in the hospital," John said.

"That means a lot, but I want you to go and have fun. You've studied so hard to qualify for the trip," Sherlock said,

"I won't have any fun without you," John said. Mrs. Hudson returned with their tea and biscuits, as well as a candle.

"So what's the special occasion?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"My last night of freedom. I start chemo tomorrow and I'll be in the hospital for at least 6 weeks," Sherlock explained.

"Oh, you poor thing. What's wrong?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia," Sherlock said. "But I'll be fine. I've got John here to help me fight it."

"That's good for you. Medicine is so advanced now; I know you'll be fine. I'll have to visit you every now and again, bring you some quality tea," Mrs. Hudson said with a smile. "I'll leave you to your date, dearie."

John held Sherlock's hand reassuringly. "You'll win this fight, love," John promised him.

"I will," Sherlock smiled.


End file.
